Operation: X
by Kiden Nixon
Summary: XMenKNDWally has been given a powerful gift, for a painful price. The world he once knew has been shattered, and left with the pieces he must follow a new path in order to take back what he once loved. 4/3 ChadCree
1. Thirteen

Disclaimer: I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door, nor do I own X-men and all it's concepts. All I own is the plot.

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**Thirteen**  
Bad luck wind been blowin' on my back  
I was born to bring trouble wherever I'm at  
With the _number thirteen_ tattooed on my neck  
That ink starts to itch  
Black gon turn to red  
I was born in the soul of misery  
And I never had me a name  
_They just give me a number when I was young_.  
-by Danzig

Thirteen

13

He had seen it with Nigel, with Abby, and with Hoagie, but never in a thousand, no, a million years, did he ever see it happening to himself. Yet there it was before him, the undeniable proof made solid, made _real_, on the colorful face of a hastily made birthday cake. Thirteen candles. Thirteen wax testaments that stood like graves to symbolize the thirteen years he had lived, and lost. The same thirteen flames that had danced and wavered their loathsome good-byes to a thousand children before him.

The same thirteen candles that had embodied the ridding of old for the coming of new as they melted and cooled across the white icing. He couldn't bring himself to blow out the candles, content enough to watch them became nothing more then shapeless lumps and burnt-out wicks. The moment all the candles dimmed and died, would be the moment his childhood came to an end.

'Happ**y **Birthday' 'Wallabee', the cake said in two different styles, make a wish it implied. He could not tear his eyes away. All he saw was the wish he wanted more then anything to make. His breath was growing heavier as his emotions began to seep through. The regret and anxiety inundated his mind, and in instants he wished more then anything that he could take back the last thirteen years of his life. He wanted to purify them of tragedy, to rid them of regrets. He wanted to continue fighting alongside Nigel, wanted to continue reading comic books and playing card games with Hoagie. He wanted to return some of Abby's good council, give her advice, and most of all, he wanted to sit on the roof with Kuki and watch the sun as it set.

These thoughts led to another tangent, a darker tangent as the voice of guilt swept through his mental guard. He wanted to take back his powers. He wanted to save his mother. He opened his eyes, without remembering whether he closed them or not, and realized he was no longer standing in the tree house. He was in his garage, and it was no longer his birthday, and the cake was gone. In its place sat one single white house candle, and it was three weeks earlier.

His emotions were running wild, a maelstrom of grief, anger, rage and regret tearing at his innards, accelerating his heart and hampering his breath. Tears were sliding down his flushed cheeks, dying at his lips as his fists shook with the pent up anger below.

The garage windows glittered in the light of the tiny fire, and, forgetting his original intentions, he lashed out at them. He was deaf to his own anguished cry, his ears too preoccupied with the sound of shattering glass as shards fell lightly to the ground. He drew back and attacked again, and again and again, his body temperature increasing sporadically with every attack, until his hand was nothing more then a bloody pulp and his body felt as thought it was burning from the inside. But he was too possessed by rage to feel it.

Too overcome with the tide of blinding madness, to see the tiny candle flickering and growing irregularly in the non existent breeze, too blind to see the blood spilling down his twitching muscles and pooling along the ground, to blind to see his arm uncoil too early. His fists fly forward, and he was too blind to see the sudden burst of light leaping toward his tattered hand.

The sound of glass exploding into pieces came to his ears, but the pain never came. Instead, there was fire.

Something crashed.

The funeral candle was gone, the shattered glass, the blood, but the fact his mother had died in an explosion remained and so did the fire. Thirteen tiny flames faltered before his eyes as a gust of air struck him from behind.

"Wallabee Beatles, prepare for decommissioning!" For the first time he tore his eyes away from the flames, and caught Kuki's gaze briefly.

"Ah need more time." He muttered, suddenly aware of all he hadn't done, all he hadn't said. Something grabbed him from behind and he panicked."Put me down! Ah need more time!"

"You've had all the time in the world teenager!" Whoever it was grabbing his arms must have been strong, because no matter how much he flailed, they wouldn't let go. Wally tried desperately to escape, but one look at Kuki, and he knew it was over. "Come on boys, bring him over!"

The two boys complied, but Wallabee Beatles was never truly one to give up. One of the boys tripped over a plank dislodged in their intrusion, and Wally took this moment to tear his arm away from its ensnarement. His eyes searched for Kuki's, but fell back on the face of the birthday cake instead. One of the candles was still alive. He centered all his attention on the single flame, and beckoned it toward him. It grew sharply and leapt into his palm.

With a wild glint in his eyes, he shoved the flame into the second boy's face. The boy leapt back screaming, releasing the Australian in order to stamp out the fire quickly spreading over his head. Wally spun, only to find the other boy running toward the door where a terrified numbuh eighty-six stood frozen, with weapon drawn. Her communicator was raised to her mouth in the other hand.

There was only enough time for realization to dawn on Wally's face before another craft crashed through the ceiling. With the fire still burning in his palm, Wally shot at the operatives wildly, filling the air with a fiery rain, aiming at everything that fell. Soon every leaf was alight, the wood crackling and snapping as the hungry flames leapt from surface to surface without prejudice. The tree house was alive with flames.

"Kuki!" Wallabee yelled as he caught a glimpse of her staring at him from across the room as she cowered away from the flames. "Kuki!"

He quickly closed the distance between them, careful to dodge the flaming debris as he grabbed her hand. "We've got to get out of here."

"But Wally . . . " He yanked her arm. "Come on!"

He dragged her out of the living room just as one of the buses exploded, shaking the ground and throwing them both forward. Wally leapt to his feet without hesitation, but Kuki struggled to keep up as he dragged them deeper into the bowels of the tree house.

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Authors Note: This is the prologue, or the beginning chapter. It is a concept that will be continued only if I see that people like to read this. Please review, and if anyone is confused or has any ideas on how I can improve, don't be afraid to email me. Flames are allowed, though I would strongly encourage constructive criticism in their stead. 


	2. I am my Father's Son

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door, its characters, X-men, or Wolf Parade. The plot is all I lay claim to.

**You are a Runner and I am my Father's Son  
_I got a number on me  
I got a number  
won't make it through the high noon sun  
I am my father's son  
__and I am my father's son_  
his bed is made  
I was a hero  
early in the morning  
_I ain't no hero  
-by Wolf Parade_**

Father's Son

They didn't know for how long they had been running.

Her hand was sticky within his vice grip, her feet catching on every bend and arch and crack. Without her he could have already made it to safety, if he would only leave her behind, if he could, but he couldn't, he wouldn't, and the thought never crossed his mind.

The fire could have her over his dead body, and he had no plans of dying anytime soon. His heart was racing and he felt as though they had been climbing for days and not minutes.

Beads of sweat trickled down his brow, and he could feel the smoke closing in around him, but still he tugged on the tiny hand in his and urged her forward through the wooden labyrinth 's twisting halls, narrow corridors and mismatched doorways with the flames always licking at their heels. The rooms were sweltering, and he could hear the structure they had built up over so many years crumbling away beneath their feet . . .

And Kuki was slowing down. Struggling for breath, tears glittered down her cheeks cutting paths through the ash the covered her face. Her amethyst eyes were swimming with fear, glossy with fever and as red as the flesh exposed through the soot. She started choking.

"Wally . . . please . . . slow down!" Her mouth spit out body wracking coughs, but Wally would not relent even when she tripped, he dragged her back onto her feet. "I can't Wally . . . I can't."

"You have to Kuki, just a little bit longer."

He could control fire, but not to this magnitude. The inferno around him would swallow them up even before he could center his mind. He was useless.

Window after window they passed clambering heavily upwards toward the heavens and further into the canopy. He was growing dizzy, light headed, delusional, trying to ignore the flickering shadows that danced and jerked along the walls as though taunting him, hindering him. His head was spinning and his eyes were swimming with moisture as the heat continue to grow, and very soon even he wished they could stop.

What he wouldn't give for a root beer, hell, he would settle for water!

A crash echoed up through the floors, and everything about them began to shake. Thought he tried to bite it back a swear passed over his chapped lips as he and Kuki were both thrown off their feet a good ten feet into the air. Upon landing, much to their horror, the floor boards beneath them groaned, and only a matter of second later, shattered into splinters with a deafening crack, dropping both of them to the floor below.

Darkness lasted only a second before he first heard Kuki's strangled scream. Even before he knew what was going on he leapt to his feet and instantly reached for her, his eyes surveying the room around them instinctively for a means of escape.

They brightened, and he lunged forward. There in the corner near the wall was what looked to be an ordinary 'out-of-order' vending machine.

He kicked the glowing plastic facade and watched as it flew up toward the crumbled ceiling, revealing the escape pod positioned meticulously behind it.

He yanked it open, and pushed Kuki in before leaping in himself and slamming the door shut behind them.

The panel lit up like a christmas tree under his finger tips, and the small vessel began to shake.

Wally's heart sank when he realized it wasn't just the vessel shaking. Another explosion could be heard from beyond the flames, and he knew the tree house was going to fall once and for all. Kuki was whimpering, and he grabbed her hand to reassure her.

"We are going to be alright."

"We shouldn't have done this . . . " It was barely a whisper, but he caught it even over the roaring outside. "You're a teenager Wally, teenagers should be decommisioned. We broke the rules . . . !"

He opened his mouth to respond. But the world lurked once, and suddenly both children could see the sky outside of the tiny porthole.

They sensation of flight, became falling, and the view of the sky . . . .dissolved with a crash into darkness.

"_Wally we broke the rules. We shouldn't have done that. We broke the rules . . . you broke the rules." _

His head was pounding.

"Kuki?" The sun had shifted slightly down toward the horizon, not drastically, but enough he saw as his eyes adjusted. "Kuki . . . ?"

She was laying nearby curled tightly into a ball, much to his relief. Both of them seemed to be unaffected.

He filled his lungs with the fresh air, and exhaled. To his left was what little remained of the tree house. Cinders and fractures plywood and two by four technology that had been damaged beyond recognition much less repair.

To his right . . . he turned and crawled toward her. "Kuki . . . "

He whispered softly, placing his hand gently on her shoulder and shaking her a bit. "Wake up . . . we're alive."

A moan, and one hand fell from her face to expose a slight red tinge to her face as her eye flickered opened drowsily.

Tears, she was still crying. Sniffling, she removed the other hand, and glanced up at him.

"Wally . . . what have we don?" She hiccuped.

"We escaped decomisioning, thats what!" He said proudly. "We get to keep our memories now, be our own people!"

"It's not that simple . . . " She said almost inaudibly. "They won't let you go, you saw what they did to Chad, how they pursued him, how they pursued the others!"

"They aren't just going to let us . . . you! You! They aren't just going to let you walk away!" She was frantic now. "You hurt someone! You threw fire in their face and destroyed a KND facility! Don't you understand!"

Wally was at a loss for words . . . gaping like a goldfish, stammering ineloquently. "but . .. but I . . . I didn't mean to!"

"But you did Wally . . . " She pulled her arms tightly to her and winced. Wally froze.

" . . . are you alright?" He whispered gruffly. The tiny asian swallowed hard and nodded, cradling her hand concealed by her sleeve as a fresh wave of tears began to cut down her cheeks. Wally held out a hand, and his look scared her.

"I'm fine . . . " but the quiver of her lips, and the shudder of her voice was too obvious for him to believe. He gingerly took her wrist [she winced and bit her lip sharply to silence her yelp], and rolled down the sleeve.

Her wrist was swollen, and the skin of her hand was bright red and blotchy, signs he easily associated with minor second degree burn.

He dropped her hand.

"You had better get that treated." He choked. "We're fortunate there are no open blisters."

"Wally . . . " He cut her off.

"I was going to ask you to run away with me, because . . . " His heart was racing, but he had never felt so dead inside. "I don't want to leave you . . . I . . . "

"No. I can't Wally." She had cried so much already, but she could feel the tears returning. They had been through so much together. So many years had felt like days now that they were standing on what appeared to be the fork in the road.

She felt her heart break for him, but she had made up her mind. He didn't look at her, but she watched him mouth out the words:

" . . . I know."

With her good hand she dug into one of the pockets inside of her sweater, and produced a brightly wrapped box.

"This is goodbye Wally." He found it hovering before his eyes, but he could not reach for it.

His limbs felt like lead.

She sighed, and placed it at his feet.

"Happy Birthday Wally."

She had concealed her pain so well, he had hurt her. He had _hurt her._

Frozen, he stood until he was sure he was alone, until he was sure he couldn't be seen, until he was sure . . .

he fell to his knees and for the first time in a long while, dissolved into tears.

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Authors Note: It's been years since I have updated this story. I am so sorry. Again, flames are allowed, though I would strongly encourage constructive criticism instead.

Sorry for OOC-ness.


	3. Breaking

**Breaking**

Do you memorize theatrical lines

that seem to lead them in

Play the role with the good girl heart

oh the tangled web within

Who was it that lead you on

that made you want to hurt me so

_Who are you out to forget_

_who's forgot you long ago_

-by Anberlin

Breaking

It wasn't raining but he felt as though a storm was raging in his mind to conflict the brilliance of the night that had quickly settled over him and his mourning. The stars when he had last seen them were shining brilliantly, and he could only feel resentful, empty, jealous. Stars would always be the same. Infinite in number and easy to find.

He had no place to go. At home the KND would be waiting at his front door, maybe even in his living room ready and willing to ambush him as he took his first step in. He couldn't even call to tell his father he wouldn't be home, not for dinner, not for breakfast, not tomorrow, maybe not ever.

He had Kuki's gift stored unopened in his pocket and a drink clutched in his hand. He didn't have to pay for the drink, all he had done was go up to the man behind the bar and ask for a root beer and he had handed it to the Aussie. "Free of charge."

The root beer tasted a little strange, bitter, nasty. It made him gag but still a drink was a drink, and _a free_ drink at that.

A free drink, and a free place to hide. The air around him was dark, punctuated only by brightly colored lasers and glow stick jewelry, and heavy with the wreak of smoke and sweat as bodies "convulsed" to the loud thrashing and crashing of heavily synthesized computerized pop songs.

No one would ever be able to find him, there amongst the throng of hormonal teenagers. Nor would anyone ever think to look. As uncomfortable as he was, and as filled with disgust, he knew, there, seated at his small vacant table he was invisible.

And the number of bottles grew. He spun number five half full with his finger tips, amazed at how it reflected and refracted the flashing lights. His head was light, and all he could think about was how much fun Kuki would be having.

He could see her dancing, spinning out on the dance floor looking more graceful than any of the people jerking and bobbing out in the haze. She would be smiling, possibly singing along . . . maybe she would see him . . . he could see the glimmer in her eye . . . the one she got when they were ten whenever he walked in on her tea parties . . . that sweet mischievous glimmer . . .

His heart began to ache, and he watched the already hazy details begin to blur as he imagined the warmth of her hand . . . she would reach out to him. She would ask him to dance . . .

How he wished he could go back in time. There was so much time he has wasted, pretending he didn't want to be with her . . .

The half empty bottle dropped from his fingers, now empty, and he ignored it as it rolled off the table and shattered on the floor.

He wondered where she was. He wondered if he could stop her. Could he take her with him? Would she come? For some reason despite the answers that kept flooding him mind, he was suddenly filled with both hope and despair.

Why had he ever said no to her offers? Why hadn't he told her, why hadn't he tried sooner? What if he had? What if they had run away together, before his birthday? Had he known all along that this was going to happen?

He wondered if she had made it to the hospital. Should he have walked her home?

Had it been worth it?

Had hurting her been worth this?

Someone beside him ran their thumb over a flint wheel, and in his mind he could feel the pull. The small flame drew his attention and he turned.

Shadowed eyes and a glowstick halo held the small flame to the end of a cigarette. He watched it take, and grow as black lips sucked in fire, and inhaled smoke over gleaming white teeth.

If he snapped his fingers, if he blinked, he could light that face on fire. He could burn down the entire bar.

His visions swam, eyes following the embers as the wielder sat down in the empty chair besides him. The hand withdrew, and for a second the embers were obscured by smoke.

"_Who is it you are out to forget?_" Murmured the gray exhale. Behind it was a girl and a pair of eyes gray and glinting like gunmetal. "I've been watching you, five beers down, you're drowning something."

"Is root beer" He automatically slurred, but was not at all convinced that it was the truth any longer "'nd whots it ta you teenager? Shouldn't you be off . . . off doin' . . . w'oteva it is you do!"

He wanted nothing more then to throw fire into her look of smug amusement. "Whots so funneh? Huh? Spill it or ah'll make ya!"

"I know what you are." Wally froze, time froze, his heart froze, and suddenly he was all too aware of her eyes upon him. He was all too aware of their long gone amusement. "I know you are a teenager, just like me, just like all of us here. I know you are fresh to the number thirteen, as fresh as they come. Young blood . . ."

She took another drag of her cigarette, and the pull of the tiny embers seemed to drag time into sluggish motion. His heart began to murmur a whisper of a beat, and everything around him, seemed to start to turning.

" . . . I know you don't cry. You're a tough guy, but lately things have changed . . . you've experience many losses . . . " Another drag, and his head was feeling light. "I also know that you are different, and if you stay here . . . if you stay here there is more for you to fear then what already ails you."

"My name is Kiden Nixon, and I am here to help."

**Authors Note: **I am sorry it has taken me so long to update. I honestly did not mean for that to happen. I also apologize for any OOC-ness.

Flames are welcome. And if you look up Kiden Nixon on wikipedia you will see that she is actually based on a pre-existing x-men character.


	4. We're going to hell

**We're Going To Hell**

Don't tell me what you've done  
Cus I don't wanna know  
You say it's not so hard  
Just let your conscience go  
- by Cursive

"We're going to hell. Places like this . . . they were set up by adults to destroy wayward teenagers." She murmured, and he could smell the smoke on her clothes as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

"Places like this . . . they serve you all the drugs and alcohol you could ever ask for. They pump you full, they bleed you dry. These places . . ." His arm instinctively slithered around her shoulder as his head swung forward. He felt so light, but he felt so heavy.

In his own skull he felt his brain swimming, and he didn't like the motion.

"These people . . ." The flashing lights dimmed, the music wavered, muffled. Only her voice, her breath warm against his ear, was clear. "These people are doomed. Trapped. But not us. I'm here to save you."

The squeak of hinges. Muffled cries of protest in his voice, in his accent, but miles away. In the darkness before his eyes, behind his closed lids, the noises swam.

His stomach tightened, and he felt the burning sensation within his throat, behind his lips, upon his tongue seconds before his body wretched forward toward the pavement.

"I'm here to save you kid . . ." He felt her palm against his back, but felt none of her intended comfort.

She was there to save him, like he had been there to save Kuki.

"Crud!" He growled, and with a fist began to pummel his head. "Crud crud _crud!" _

"Come with me." He felt so sick, so weak, so _useless._

"Kuki . . . "

"would have wanted this."

"No . . . "

"She would have wanted you safe." He dug the heel of his palm into his eye and began to thrash against her.

"Crud! Crudcrudcrud!-" She wretched his hand away – and he gnashed his teeth at her, snarling. "Don't you pretend you know _anything_ about Kuki! You know _nothing!" _

He stole himself away, and staggered a step from her. _Her, _who in his dizziness, appeared almost like Kuki.

"I know more than you think . . ." She whispered, slipping her arm around him once more . . . and the second he registered the warmth of her palm against the flesh of his back . . . he felt he could believe her.

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**Authors Note: **A small update after forever, I know. Life has been . . . hectic. I'll try to update soon. Flames welcome, constructive criticism preferred.


	5. The Past Should Remain Dead

**The Past Should Stay Dead**  
Our time has slipped away.  
We're sinking faster, faster, no more play,  
Get ready for the catch.  
I'm at the next step waiting for our year.  
-by Emarosa

**The Past Should Stay Dead**

It had been three months since the catastrophe of his birthday and Wally was finally beginning to feel okay.

The nightmares had stopped plaguing him. He no longer woke in the night with Kuki's name upon his lips, or the image of explosions emblazoned across the back of his eyelids. He no longer woke drenched in sweat and tears and blood from the places his nails would find to dig in as he flailed. He was no longer haunted by the smells of sulfur and the screams and wails of sirens as fingers he couldn't grasp tight enough slipped into flames within his head.

By now even the bruises were beginning to fade, and finally he could sleep, the memories having begun to grown soft and faded with time. The memories had lost their edge, their bite, their bitterness in a way he never thought they would – and so soon! Something about it seemed miraculous to him, and though there was never a moment he didn't spend thinking about his brother and his father, his mother and sector v, it didn't seem to hurt so much!

Kiden kept him busy. 'Saving him' meant keeping him away from anywhere the KND would think to look, and away from anything that could be just another attempt at his life by adults. So he spent most of his time in her small-hole-in-the-wall apartment – lighting candles.

She would leave him with a matchbook and set candles up across the small kitchen counter for him to practice with, and for hours he would sit there casting the flame from match to candle and make it leap from wick to wick. He'd make them grow by spreading his fingers, and shrink by bringing the tips close. He failed to remember having ever been so focused on anything, but he was fascinated by the things he could do with just a though or a simple motion.

But there was something bothering him. He had told no one of his powers . . . so how had Kiden known?

Kiden, who at first had looked so much like Kuki, but now he saw was nothing at all like her. The only thing they had in common was their Japanese heritage. Kuki though, was shorter, younger, softer. To Wally she was vibrant and friendly and so full of happiness that it seemed to radiated from her. From the shine of her dark hair to the brightness in her amethyst eyes and the healthy glow of her skin. To him, who had spent countless hours cooped up alone in the small apartment thinking about her, she was like sunlight.

Kiden was an older, pale, grey eyed imitation. Taller, fairer, with hair that seemed darker and eyes like gunmetal. Something about her seemed weathered, her arms were scratched up and her limbs bore bruises. Her age, he couldn't place, but she seemed older than he though she could possibly be, but there was very little he knew about her besides the fact she lived in a cruddy apartment, a pair of worn out combat boots, and enough black eye makeup to make a raccoon jealous.

Despite this, there was something familiar about her. A feeling that he could trust her, that she had been there all along. Sometimes even, he swore, if he though hard enough and long enough about it, she was there. Back in his mind, back in his memories at a party . . . or at school or something . . .

But still, how did she know? Why didn't this freak her out as much as it had scared him?

Who was Kiden Nixon?

As if on cue he heard the front door slam, and the stomping of her boots.

"Hey kid!" He snapped and all the candles extinguished themselves. "Hey, Beatles!"

She appeared within the kitchen door frame in skinny jeans with her hair pulled back and smiled her odd smile. "There you are kid! Get up, get dressed, we got places to go."

"W'ot? Where we going?" But she had turned on her heels and was heading toward the only bedroom. He stood up quickly and followed. "Why don't you eva' answer me when ah ask you somethin'?"

"Because, I think its easier just to show you." She had picked up a grey duffel bag, and slung it over her leather clad shoulder.

Wally frowned.

"Ah don't like it when you keep secrets from me." He growled. But she paid him no heed until he grabbed hold of her sleeve as she tried to walk by him. "W'ots this about? This isn't another of your errand is it?"

She gave him a funny look, and grabbed his hand.

For a second he was overcome by a familiar sensation, a warmth, or a tugging or something in the brief touch, but just as soon as he felt it it was gone.

"Cruddy girls and their plans . . . " He grumbled as she dropped her gaze and took back her hand. Now free Wally shut the bedroom door and began to dig through the pile of clothing Kiden had managed to gather for him. Out of everything though, regardless of how new or how old or how clean it all was, the one outfit he picked out every time without fail was the same worn orange hoodie and jeans.

'Saving him' meant keeping him away from anywhere the KND would think to look, and away from anything that could be just another attempt at his life by adults. But he should have known sooner or later things were going to change.

"Unless you are hiding the ability to control time, I would hurry up." She warned him from somewhere beyond the bedroom door. "There are some people in the world you don't want to keep waiting."

This was definitely not one of her errands.

She locked the door, and lead him down out the front of the building. Before stepping off the stoop though she cast him a smirk, and tugged the hood of her grey hoodie over her dark hair.

"Trust me a little." She said.

The streets here were busy but she cut through them with ease, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her leather jacket. Behind her Wally struggled to keep up.

But she turned around corners and lead him down alleys and if he didn't know any better he would say she was trying to lose him.

"Kiden, where the crud are we - " She stopped, and as she did a car pulled up in front of her.

"Get in." That voice!

"'ey wait, w'ot?" It sounded familiar!

But before he could place it the back door flew open, and in that same split second a hand descended over his eyes and before he could even fight back, everything went dark.

"Hey, hey kid! Wake up!" A blinding light seared through Wally's closed eyelids dredging a sound up from his throat as he lifted his arms up over his head.

"W'ots the big idea?" He bellowed. Awake, he blinked back the spots as his eyes adjusted to the brightness of the room. Not a few feet from him stood two figures coming slowly into focus. "Wait . . . ah know you!"

He tried to stand but something cold stuck him in the chest and sent him stumbling back to the ground.

"Of course you do." Was all Number 274 – no, Chad said with a sneer, lowering his hand.

"Why ah oughta! - oof!" He was pushed back again, this time by a foot that just as quickly as it struck, recoiled and prepared to hit again.

"Still as hot headed as always aren't you squirt?"

"Cree . . .!"

"Thought you would have learned by now to respect your elders." She said cooly, adjusting her gauntlet. "Especially now that you aren't so young yourself. We aren't so different you know."

"Ah'm nothin' like you freaks." He seethed, but this time kept his seat. The room around him was almost dim now that his eyes had adjusted, dim and sparsely furnished with nothing more than a cot across from a wall of steal bars.

"Where am ah, and where 's Kiden?"

"You're both safe.." Answered Cree, looking just as Wally remembered her, the same twisted cocky smirk and all. "For now, and it will stay that way if you cooperate."

Cooperate?

The only way he could escape was to take down both Chad and Cree. He slipped his hands into his pockets, but no luck, someone had taken his lighter.

"Looking for this?" His head shot up, and in Chad's right hand he saw the cheap plastic object in question. "How stupid do you really think we are?"

With a growl Wallabee lunged, but Chad was one step ahead. He took a step to the side, his fist and the lighter already coated in a thick layer of ice he planted firmly below Wallabee's ribs.

Wally saw stars.

"You still don't get it." Chad said with a frown as the boy fell to the ground. "You're not the only one with powers here, you best remember that."

He could hear the clanging of the door in the steel bars as the two ex-KND made their way to leave.

"We're here to help you . . . and when you're ready to talk, we'll talk."

And the door clanged shut, and quickly the padding of their soles against the stone floor faded away.

Now alone Wallabee curled into a ball unable to breath. Sputtering and choking and wheezing on the floor clutching his chest as the immense pain radiated through his frame. His mind was whirling. Could he trust them? They had deserted the KND but so had he! He was a runaway too . . .

Was this what it had come down to? Him working alongside the people he had for so long considered his enemies? Was he really so different?

He wondered what the Sector would say, he wondered if they were okay.

And when air finally entered his lungs, he curled up and allowed himself to sleep.

* * *

**Authors Note: **I'm trying to get this story moving. It's been sitting for way too long. Constructive Criticism is much appreciated. Flames welcomed.

Characters do not belong to me.


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